


Breaking and Entering

by TheMidnightOwl



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Breaking the Law, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, M/M, Porn, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, mild pain play, naughty boys, smut turns fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 00:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11002389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMidnightOwl/pseuds/TheMidnightOwl
Summary: The most frustrating part of sex with Joker was how easily he unraveled Bruce.  That was not going to happen tonight, though.  Tonight Bruce was in control.  He was going to have Joker in a way he'd never had him before.Prequel to "Don't You Know" but is readable on its own.





	Breaking and Entering

This is a good night.

Joker made a fatal mistake that made it much easier for Batman to thwart his plan and save all of the potential victims.  Now he had him on the run.  Joker was fast, but Bruce was methodical.  He would corner him, and he had a good place in mind.  He threw batarangs to keep Joker running towards his goal.

Finally, Bruce had him running for the docks.  From here, Joker would either have to go through Bruce - which he was smart enough to know would not happen - or try to swim, which would only make catching him easier.  He would choose to stand and fight, preferring to go down swinging.  And he will go down.

Joker stopped running and started to cackle.  He rested his hands on his knees.  Bruce straightened to his full height, flexing his muscles, waiting for his opponent to ready himself.  

Joker twisted around.  Giggles still slipped out his lips.  “What a night, eh Bats?”  He laughed again.  “I know I had fun.  And bravo for saving all of those people.  Though I was hoping I’d at least get away with a few.”  He shrugged.  “Well, ya win some ya lose some.”

“You always lose.  And this time it’s permanent.”

“Ah ah,” Joker shook his finger at Bruce, “I’ve won quite a few.  Especially the ones that ended in a lot of heavy breathing.”  More laughter.

Bruce was done waiting for the fight to start.  “Oracle, disable all dock and boatyard cameras.”  He launched himself at Joker, landing a solid uppercut that ground his jaw.  The clown still laughed, and then returned fire.  And so the dance began.

After their first night together, Bruce had begun to wonder if they’d actually been having sex with one another the whole time.  Squaring off against Joker always felt different than with any other opponent.  He felt more confident, more powerful, and more balanced somehow, like this was how he achieved equilibrium.  The sound of Joker’s laughter let Bruce know that every blow was effective.  And they had their own unique rhythm.  The sounds, the rhythm, the sweat, their fights were always so intimate.  For all of their intensity, they may as well have been sex.

Tonight was no different.  They both fought with all they had.  Joker punched, Bruce blocked, Bruce punched, Joker dodged; they made a lot of contact in between, but most of Joker’s blows were absorbed by the armor.  That didn’t dissuade him.  Eventually he pulled out a knife from god knows where.  He mostly only slashed a few more lines into the armor, until one lucky strike left a gash in Bruce’s cheek.  

Joker retreated backwards with a satisfied laugh.  He licked the blood off the blade.  “Why Bats, you taste delicious.  Of course, I already knew that.”  he waggled his eyebrows.

Bruce rolled his eyes and sprang again.  He caught Joker’s arm and stressed it, ready to break it if necessary to get him to release the knife.  The blade clattered to the ground before he needed to.  Just as he adjusted his grip, readying to drop the clown to his knees so he could cuff him, Joker elbowed him in the face.  Hard.  Bruce really hoped he wasn’t going home with a broken nose.

He caught Joker’s wrists in a vice grip and yanked him in.  Joker didn’t resist, and pressed forward to steal a kiss from the Bat’s lips.  Damn him, that sent a flood of warmth through Bruce’s veins.  Now that he’d accidentally equated their fights to sex, that kiss had an unideal effect on him.  Joker had never pulled that in all the time its been since they’d started sleeping together.  He was more grateful than ever that he always disabled the cameras wherever he fought.  The momentary distraction was enough for Joker to break away.  His grin was feral.

“Everything okay, Bats?” Joker taunted, “you seem a little… feverish.  Something getting you hot?”  He laughed at his own joke.  

It got under Bruce’s skin, but not in the way it usually did.  Right now it made him want to shut Joker up with his tongue instead of his fist.  Years of sexual tension that was finally allowed to see fruition gave that one single kiss more power than it deserved.  His blood was already laced with adrenaline and serotonin from the physical exertion.  Now the kiss and the awful innuendo mixed testosterone into the mess.

He stalked towards Joker and lifted him in the air by his coat.  Joker did not make an attempt to stop him, only wrapped his arms around Bruce’s to support himself, grinning all the while.  Bruce fucking hated him.  Hated him so much.

“God fucking dammit,” Bruce growled to himself.  He turned off his communicator, his tracker, and all his connections to the bat computer and his family.  They would question it.  He’d deal with it later.  Right now he was pulling Joker away from the loading docks and towards the private boatyard.  He could tell by the hop in his step that Joker knew the fighting was over.  Fucking smug asshole.

The most frustrating part of this arrangement was how easily Joker unraveled him.  Joker had access to none of Bruce’s body except his penis because they were always going at it in alleys and abandoned buildings, and yet he still maintained full control of himself _and_ Bruce while Bruce’s vision went white.  That was not going to happen tonight, though.  That little stunt with the kiss was about to get Joker’s ass handed to him.  Tonight Bruce was in control.

He dragged Joker to one of the largest yachts in the yard.  He hid the keypad from view as he typed in the code to the door.

“I thought your boat had bat wings,” Joker said.

“It’s not mine,” Bruce admitted.  “It’s Tim Tyler’s.  Last time I saw him we talked over cocktails on the bay.  I happened to see him punch in the code.”

Joker gasped dramatically from behind his hands.  _“Batsy,_ you devil, you.”  Then he bent down to whisper into Bruce’s ear.  “You’ll have to show me what else your fingers can do besides breaking and entering.”

Bruce didn’t respond, only opened the door and ducked inside.  He led the way down into the bedroom he knew was there, dressed in red silk sheets and navy blue covers.  He slammed Joker into the wall as soon as he passed through the door and captured his lips with his own.

Joker returned the kiss with fevered desperation.  His arms snaked around Bruce’s shoulders and clung to his cowl.  Bruce’s hands explored his thin frame, slipping under his coat but not attempting to remove yet.  He licked at Joker’s lips until he was granted access to his mouth.  Lipstick smudged against his cheek and he tasted it on his tongue.  It reminded him of his nights acting as a playboy, sleeping with women who only wanted a night with him to say they’d had a night with him, while he did it to maintain a reputation that set him as far apart from Batman as possible.  From now on, he wanted the taste of lipstick to remind him of this.  This moment of lust shared in secret on a stranger’s yacht.  This was raw, this was honest, this was an actual connection.  Fucked up as it was, Bruce had felt connected to no one else this intensely.

Little unconscious sighs and moans vibrated in Joker’s throat, tickled Bruce’s tongue.  Yes, those involuntary reactions were exactly what he was looking for.  He pressed Joker further into the wall with his hips.  Meanwhile, his hands started removing clothing.  First he slipped Joker’s coat off of his shoulders, which Joker immediately finished shedding on his own, returning his arms to around Bruce’s head as fast as possible.  The kiss never broke.  Then it was time for the waistcoat, then suspenders, then bowtie, then shirt, until at long last that pearl white skin glowed gold in the low tungsten light.  He pressed their chests together, earning a gasp.  Bruce knew Joker liked the feeling of the Bat’s cold armor against his heated skin.  

Joker’s leg hitched around Bruce’s ankle.  Bruce lifted him by his hips; he did not hesitate to wrap his long legs around Bruce’s back.  He was so damn tall.  His head was above Bruce’s now, but not at an uncomfortable angle.  Bruce held him up fine on his own, but he still felt Joker squeezing with his legs.  The man was all long limbs and wiry muscle, but Bruce knew how deceptive his appearance was.  He felt the power in those legs through his armor as they kept the two of them joined at the hip.  

Bruce heard two soft clicks, and then the flutter of fabric.  Joker had unclipped his cape.  Bruce bit down on Joker’s lower lip, which earned him a breathy moan.  That was the last time Joker exercised control.  He backed away from the wall and wrapped his arms around Joker to carry him.  The kiss still did not break, even as Bruce dropped them onto the bed, himself cradled by those long legs.  Joker’s hands were everywhere, indecisive over where they wanted to rest.  Or looking for weaknesses in the armor.  He never could be certain with the madman.  Joker was always thinking.  Right now, he was going to change that.

Joker whined in protest when Bruce pulled back from his mouth to stand.  His arms tried to follow but could only hang in the air.  Bruce removed his gloves, then his gauntlets, and worked his way through the process of removing the suit.  Joker propped himself up on his elbows, watching him with enraptured hunger.  Bruce took his time, eyes locked on Joker’s.  He wanted to see impatience somewhere in the clown’s body language, but Joker was too good at hiding what he was really thinking.  He would need to work much harder to melt away that many years of acting experience.

Joker’s grin widened when Bruce removed the bottom half of his armor, showing off his hardening cock.  Joker’s trousers were also tented.  Bruce gripped the bottom cuffs of Joker’s pants and ripped them off in one motion.  Joker threw his head back and laughed.  He wasn’t wearing underwear.  Of course he wasn’t.  Bruce let himself smile.  His cowl was still on to further tease Joker, and now he reached up to remove it.  

“No!” Joker thrust his arm forward.  “Leave it,” he purred.  _Fuck,_ that voice.  Joker knew how to use it, knew how it affected Bruce.  Joker’s grin was feral, his eyes daring, and his breath deep.  For the first time he was going to feel the Bat’s skin on his own, and he still he wanted some degree of separation.  Was it because he didn’t want to see the face of Bruce Wayne?  Or was it because he got off on the mask?  He couldn’t be sure, but he allowed Joker that one order.  He left the cowl on.

Bruce walked his hands up the mattress, seductively crawling over Joker’s body to regain access to his mouth.  Only when Joker started panting did he let himself press their chests together.  Joker was warm and his skin was soft, which Bruce had not expected.  He hadn’t really touched any part of Joker except his cock.  Joker would shed his own clothes and Bruce would help but he himself always kept in full armor.  Now they were both fully exposed and feeling every sensation.  Bruce guided Joker’s legs back around his hips.  Damn, did that feel amazing.  He felt Joker’s scars when they moved; he was sure Joker felt his own, too.  Joker shuddered with pleasure whenever Bruce bit at his lips or caressed his skin.  He knew how sensitive Joker was to touch, and he imagined his senses were on overload right now.  Joker’s erection, heavy and hot, was twitching under Bruce’s lower abdomen; close to his own, but not close enough.  All in due time.

Another protesting whine when Bruce broke the kiss.  His lips quickly made purchase on Joker’s jaw, then down his neck. 

“Oh Bats, don’t you know how to make a girl’s heart flutter,” Joker breathed, a slight giggle in his voice.  

Bruce ignored him in favor of biting his shoulder, which earned him another moan.  “Careful there Bats,” came the response, “or I may have to bite back.”

Bruce kissed the notch above his clavicle, and grazed the bone with his teeth as he moved over it, ever further down.  His hands caressed up Joker’s arms until he gripped his bony shoulders.  A scar fell on his path of kisses.  He licked it.  Joker’s body shuddered with an airy breath.  Bruce licked again, then caught the raised skin in his teeth.  

Joker’s back arched.  _“Fuck,”_ he groaned.  

Bruce made a mental note that Joker’s scars were erogenous zones.  Which made sense, given his enjoyment of pain.  He pulled back to admire how red Joker’s skin was from the bite.  And suddenly he realized where this scar came from.  It was old, and small, but deep, and a very familiar shape.  It was from a batarang.  Dark arousal pooled in his belly.  He studied Joker’s torso then, really looking, trying to identify scars that he had caused.  When he found one, he gave it the same attention as the first.  Laughter shook Joker’s body, which most likely meant he knew why Bruce was after specific scars.  It fueled Bruce on, seeking every mark he’s ever left on Joker’s body and reclaiming it.  The chorus of laughter melted into a cry when Bruce bit in to an especially sensitive one: on his side just above the crest of his hip, where one of the Bat’s gauntlets had sliced him deep.  Joker’s back arched and he gripped the ears of the cowl like he was trying to ground himself.  

Joker giggled when he got his breath back.  “That’s one way to admire your own handiwork."

Bruce cocked a sideways grin.  Joker was trying to act nonchalant but his resolve was cracking.  Bruce returned to trailing kisses down Joker’s skin, starting from the navel.  His hands followed as he had to take a knee, coming to rest on Joker’s hips.  He grazed the tip of Joker’s head with his lips before giving it a slow, firm lick.  

“I’ve always wondered what your tongue can do,” Joker teased.  Trying to cover his gasping.  

Bruce scraped his teeth along the underside of his head in response.  Joker shuddered again and tilted his head back.  Joker’s cock was rock hard, but the skin encasing it was soft.  Steel wrapped in silk.  Bruce had no idea how to give a blowjob, and this was his first time performing oral on Joker, but he knew what a practiced tongue could do to a man.  He licked up as he tilted his head down, licking the entire shaft in sections.  When he reached the hilt, he gave the balls a few strokes of tongue before dragging his tongue from the shaft all the way back up to the head and taking the glans into his mouth.  Enraptured laughter filled the air and shook Joker’s body under him.  It was the most beautiful sound Bruce had ever heard.  Melodic and lustful and so very Joker.

His own cock wept from neglect.  As much as he wanted to take for himself, he knew putting it off a little longer to better take this man apart would be well worth it.  His thumbs traced the crests of Joker’s pelvis as he continued teasing his cock with his tongue.  Occasionally taking the glans into his mouth to swirl his tongue around it, but never taking it into his throat or bobbing his head.  Just enough to be pleasurable but not enough to be fully satisfying.  He wanted Joker desperate and needy before he would give him what he really wanted.  What they both wanted.

Wicked laughter met his ears.  “You sure you haven’t done this before?  I find it hard to imagine that Gotham’s most-” a surprised gasp “-eligible bachelor never got a little man-hungry before slamming _me_ into a wall.”

“Stop talking,” Bruce demanded.

“When have you ever been able to shut me up.”

That challenge sparked something wicked in his blood.  Bruce was always competitive, and rose to any challenge, and now his most formidable opponent was daring him to break him.  He would not disappoint.

He resumed his earlier ministrations, keeping in tuned to Joker’s body, waiting for him to settle back down into blissful unawareness.  Once he was certain Joker was ill prepared, he flipped Joker onto his stomach.  Before the clown could question, Bruce spread his cheeks and licked, long, slow, and heavy.  That beautiful blissful laughter shook Joker’s frame again, lined with genuine surprise.  He felt a sense of accomplishment at having done something unexpected.

His tongue circled now, occasionally swiping across suggestively, light he might push in, but never following through.  Joker wasn’t much trying to stifle his sounds of pleasure anymore.  Breathy moans and light giggles that Bruce’s ears caught and amplified.  Fucking hell, the things this man did to him.  If someone had come to him a year ago and told him he would one day willingly be licking the Joker’s asshole he would have punched them through a window.

Hell, he probably still would anyway.

His own resolve was slipping.  The sight of Joker’s back, pearl white and scarred and stretched taut from the way he was balanced on his forearms, his head bowed forward which tensed his shoulder blades.  The resulting picture was an expanse of smooth yet simultaneously rough skin and strong muscle stretched over a lean frame.  Joker was made of contradictions.  Smooth but course.  Skinny but strong.  Crazy but sane.  Fuck, he couldn’t take it any longer.  

He braced his hands on the mattress and pushed off his knees.  In one swift motion, he knelt on the bed and dragged his tongue from the base of Joker’s spine all the way up his vertebrae to his nape.  Joker breathed a single airy laugh.

“You’re going to run out of saliva, darling,” he said.

Bruce grabbed a handful of green hair, whispered darkly in his ear, “I told you to stop.  Talking.”

He straightened and flipped Joker over again, still trapped between his legs.  Joker’s eyes glinted with the mischief and hunger reflected in his grin.  His pupils were so dilated there was almost no green left.  _“Make me.”_

Heat flooded Bruce’s veins.  He descended on that wicked mouth, reaffirming his dominance.  Hands found their way up his arms, his shoulders, his neck, and up into his hair where, they switched between stroking and gripping.  Bruce pushed Joker into the mattress.  He wanted Joker’s lips bruised and swollen.  He wanted Joker marked by him.  He already was, in a way, but Bruce wanted more.  Fuck, he wanted so much.

He couldn’t take it anymore.  He rose again and pushed himself back.  Joker looked him from top to bottom with a smirk.  “My my, rising to the occasion, aren’t you?”

Bruce ignored that.  He wouldn’t be a smartass in a minute.  He separated Joker’s legs and wrapped them around his hips once more, lining himself up.  Joker’s expression became unsure.  “Bats, what are you-”

A desperate moan replaced words as Bruce slid inside.  Bruce exhaled sharply.  It was relieving to finally have some stimulation.  He took a moment to gather himself again before thrusting out and back in with a snap of his hips.  Joker laughed out a sound of pleasure.  Not quite the one from earlier.  Bruce needed to find it again.  He knew Joker didn’t want any time to adjust; he always wanted it hard and fast out of the starting gate.  This time, Bruce wouldn’t deny him that.  Joker was getting everything he had, everything he hadn’t been allowed for too many years.

One of the most unjust expressions he was denied all those years was how beautiful Joker is.  He had to deny it to himself.  He had to beat it out of himself.  He had to be careful what he said, lest someone get even just a hint of favor in his voice.  He didn’t have to do that anymore.  He could allow himself to get lost in Joker’s exotic beauty.  How he seemed the perfect center between masculine and feminine, with his lean frame trimmed in toned muscle and those damn long legs.  Bruce moved one of his hands to Joker’s lower abdomen, just to feel the coiled strength working with his exertions.  His body was hairless save for his head and groin, the latter of which only grew to a short length.  The cuts of muscle were smooth and spoke of true strength in a figure that should be anything but.  One would think his pure white skin was chalky, but Bruce saw a pearl melted and spread across hills and valleys of flesh.  Even now in the low light, Joker’s skin glowed with the radiant beauty of the moon.  And, Bruce noted with a hint of lustful pride, that gorgeous skin was beginning to flush red.  

There was something unfamiliar reflected in Joker’s eyes.  They had not broken eye contact, but it almost seemed like Joker wanted to look away.  Like the eye contact… intimidated him.  They were always front to back; they never looked at each other when they fucked.  It was always secluded rooftops and seedy alleys, never such a luxurious space with a queen sized bed and silk sheets.  There was no hiding like this.  Everyone could see everything about the other.  They were vulnerable.  And he knew Joker hated vulnerability.

But he would never admit it.  “Baaaaaattttssss,” he hissed, “you broke the law - getting us in here - and you’re still - _ah fuck_ \- fucking me like we’re - in an alley.”

Infuriating son of a bitch.  Bruce growled deep in his throat.  He bent down, changing the angle and holding Joker by his hips.  “If you can still talk, I’m not doing this right.”  Joker laughed.  He could feel it on his cock.  Fuck.  Now Joker’s laughter was going to be erotic.

To stop the laughter, Bruce bit the juncture of his neck and shoulder.  Hard.  The deep belly sounds were overtaken by that beautiful melodic laugh Bruce had been after.  “Oh fuck, _Bats.”_ When he pulled back, he shifted the position again by throwing Joker’s legs over his shoulders.  _Fuck,_ he had wanted to do that for so long.  He didn’t realize it until this moment, but it felt like this deep desire long ignored.  

Joker was done trying to stifle any noises.  Moans and gasps and hisses permeated the air, made heavy by their breaths.  Every now and again, a soft fit of giggling sounded in between, or a soft cry of _“oh, yes, Bats”_ or something to that nature.  Sometimes they felt overdramatized, but the ones he knew were genuine were so gorgeous Bruce wondered if he could come from Joker’s needy vocalizations alone.

Without warning,  Joker’s hands shot up and gripped the ears of the cowl.  He tried not to look disappointed when Joker pulled his legs off of Bruce’s shoulders to wrap them back around his hips.  He feared that he had hurt Joker with the position, but he was being pulled downward by his ears towards Joker’s daring eyes.  Their lips met.  Joker assumed control, but Bruce quickly took it away, thrusting his tongue into Joker’s mouth just as he thrust his cock further in his pliant ass.  Surrounded by Joker.  Sight, sound, taste, touch, scent, everything in Bruce’s world was Joker.  

When the kiss separated, Joker’s arms fell over his head.  Bruce grabbed his wrists and pinned them to either side.  He wanted to wear Joker’s legs like a necklace, but he wasn’t going to release his hold.

Joker turned his head to one side and stretched his neck.  Bruce almost stopped out of shock.

The man always in control even when he wasn’t.  The snake that always found a way, always had the upper hand.  The man that brought Gotham to its knees so many times.  The Harlequin of Hate, the Clown Prince of Crime, was offering his throat.  Willingly submitting.  Bruce was drunk on lust but he knew what that move was.  Vulnerability.

With more care than Joker probably wanted, Bruce bit his neck again.  Lightly at first, but when he felt Joker’s disappointment he dug his teeth in to the flesh, earning a pleasured sigh.  Joker likes pain, he reminded himself.  Its not abuse.  Joker is aroused by pain.  

He’s struggling against Bruce’s hold.  Bruce can’t tell if he’s playing, or genuinely wants him to let go.  He doesn’t want to make the wrong decision.  Joker lifts his head, but doesn’t get far because of how well he’s pinned.  Another giggle falls out of his lips.  Cocking his head, Bruce leans down.  Joker thrusts his neck out to capture Bruce’s bottom lip between his teeth.  Bruce forces his head down into the mattress.  Joker didn’t bite hard, which Bruce imagined took a considerable effort, and let Bruce take control.  

A spark of sudden paranoia overtook him from the submission.  All of this, was he playing?  Was this a joke?  Joker never submitted without pushing back.  He wanted Joker broken down, yes, but where was the pushback?  It shocked Bruce so much that he stopped thrusting.

Joker released his lips with an airy snarl that was more shock and protest than anger.

“What the _fuck_ are you-"

“Be quiet.”

Joker whined.  He tried moving himself up and down Bruce’s cock, but he was immobilized too well.  Bruce recognized the potential danger in this position.  If Joker felt betrayed and trapped, he would retaliate violently, and being outside the batsuit left him at a disadvantage.  He stared down at his enemy, readying himself for a fight but hoping Joker would understand the message.  Joker twisted, arched his back, tried to unwrap his legs, to no avail.  Grunts signified his frustrations.  Bruce could see his pupils contracting.

“Joker,” Bruce said in Batman’s voice.  The clown’s eyes snapped back up to his, challenging and just a hint angry.  Joker searched Bruce’s eyes.  Bruce knew those little snaps of movement well.  Joker was looking for something.  He tried to convey what it was.

Joker’s pupils dilated again, and a too-wide grin crawled across his face.  He adjusted his position by arching his back and pushing.  A resolve-shattering whine keened from Joker’s lungs.  It was dramatized but not dramatized; honest desperation putting on a show.  _“Bats,”_ he moaned, “Bats, _please.”_ A horrifying grin spread across his features.  “If you don’t, _I_ will.”

Bruce exhaled in a huff of relief.  Fuck, this man was gorgeous.  It took all his effort not to make a sound.  Slowly at first, he built his momentum back up.  In all honesty, he didn’t know if he was going to last much longer, not with Joker being so unashamedly wanton.  Most of his body now flushed red and he was squirming with bliss.  The sight alone was enough to undo a man, without including how warm and tight he was around Bruce’s cock.  He might fall apart soon, unless-

The world stopped.  Bruce looked down at Joker, shocked at the sound that just came from him.  His whole body vibrated with pleasure.  Bruce had hit his prostate.  With a smirk, he thrust in hard again, trying to replicate the motion.  Joker was definitely beyond talking right now.  He felt his own orgasm rising, but he could hold it off.  He wanted to make Joker come without a single touch to his cock.

Joker was desperate for release.  Bruce could see it in the lines of his face, his slacked jaw, the beads of sweat on his forehead.  Just hit it one more time…

Silence.  There were no words nor sounds as Joker’s release overtook him and painted streams of white across his abdomen and chest.  He panted with pleasure and exhaustion after it stopped.  With a satisfied giggle, he relaxed his entire body, slumping into the mattress.  He locked eyes with Bruce.

Bruce released Joker’s wrists so he could grip him by the hips again.  His arms remained as they were.  A coy smile painted his features as he stared up at his Bat.  _“Fuck,”_ Bruce breathed before he could stop himself.  There was no stopping it now.  _“Fuck, J, fuck-“_

It was his turn to whine a little.  His pitch was high when he exhaled, as his cock pumped his release into Joker’s pliant body.  He collapsed forward when it was over, catching himself with his hands so he didn’t fall directly on top of Joker.  Not because he cared about the mess; he didn’t want to crush him.

Slowly, Joker reached for the ears again.  He pulled Bruce’s head lower.  A hand slipped around the back of Bruce’s neck and just as he was ready for the kiss Joker pushed the release and pulled the cowl off.  Bruce was left staring at him, mouth agape and feeling exposed.  He thought he understood; Joker had shown him vulnerability so now it was his turn.  Unable to hide under his mask.  Now, he was just a man.

Joker’s smile was not his own, warm and fond and gentle.  He caressed his hands down Bruce’s face before gripping and pulling him in to a kiss.  This was new.  They never really stuck around for the after bit.  But Joker was kissing him lazily and Bruce so loved what happened after sex, the aftershocks and cuddling and lazy kisses.  So he kissed back.  It wasn’t a fight for dominance with this one.  This wasn’t lust.  Was this… affection?

The thought gave Bruce pause, which Joker noticed and broke the kiss to eye him.  Bruce chased his lips.  He could overthink all of this until he went insane later.  Right now, Joker still wanted his attention and he wasn’t ready for this to be over either so he stayed.  And they kissed.  Slow glides of lips accompanied by slips of tongue as they leveled their breathing.  Bruce tentatively lowered himself, gauging how okay Joker would be with him closing the space between their bodies.  Not a complaint or sign of discomfort in sight, so Bruce let himself drop.  Joker didn’t react.  Relieved, he returned his full attention to the kiss.  Joker’s hands left his face and draped around his shoulders, his hands exploring whatever they could reach.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end, and as much as he would like nothing more than to kiss this man until they both asphyxiated, they were on a stranger’s boat.  Bruce pulled away and bowed his head.  Joker’s lips rested in his hair.  

“We need to go,” he said reluctantly.  Joker hummed but made no effort to move.  Neither did Bruce.

He could feel Joker thinking.  He had a nervous anticipation that he was being analyzed.  Suddenly he wanted to put as much distance between them as possible.  He felt too exposed.  Joker was always analyzing him but as Batman, never in an intimate setting like this.

…However, he also didn’t want to shut the door in Joker’s face, because he liked this.  Not just the sex, but _this_ sex.  Passionate and heated and leisurely, not rushed and sloppy.  So when he felt the lips in his hair apply pressure, he returned it with a kiss to the hollow at the base of Joker’s throat.  But it was time to leave now.  Reluctantly, he pushed himself upright.

Joker didn’t move immediately.  He laid staring at the ceiling.  When he pushed himself up onto his elbows, he watched in amusement as Bruce pulled on his underwear and under armor.  Once again Bruce felt like a specimen being observed, but he ignored it.  He’d had control all night. He wasn’t allowed to get angry with Joker over doing what Joker always does: turning Batman over and over in his head.

The building silence paired with Joker’s lack of movement was awkward.  After Bruce opted to turn his head, Joker slipped off the bed.  Bruce looked round in time to see him use the red silk sheets to clean the semen off his chest.  He redressed the bed to be as neat as they had left it.  Then made to get dressed.

“I’m not cleaning the sheets,” Joker said.

Bruce started at him incredulously.  “Why did you do that.”

“‘Cause it’s funny,” Joker answered simply.  “It’ll be dry by morning.  He’ll never know.  Unless your IT department turned the cameras back on.”

Horror jolted through Bruce’s body.  Dear god, what if Barbara _had_ turned on the cameras to try and find him?  Would she have seen them sneaking into the boat?  

Joker laughed.  “Oh, relax, Bats.  I was looking for the cameras while you were unlocking the door.  They were off.  Don’t ruin a good thing with paranoia.”  He sighed.  “And oh, was it good.”

Bruce snapped his gauntlets into place.  “You’re still talking.”

“Keeping me quiet is a full-time job, Bats.  Speaking of, what’s your refractory period?”  He slid a hand up Batman’s armored chest.  “Mine’s fifteen minutes.” 

Bruce walked through the clown’s hand.  “No it’s not.”  He headed for the stairs.  Joker was right behind him, still buttoning his shirt.

“Only one way to find out,” Joker called, “got any other friends with boats?  Or your own?  I’m fine with wings.”

Hesitantly, he opened the door and peaked out, left and right.  No one.  And the cameras were indeed off.  He stepped out into the night and waited impatiently for Joker.  When the stubborn man finally stepped out of the boat, he closed the door and punched in the code again.  Locked and armed.  Tyler would be none the wiser about their adultery.  

As they walked back to land, Joker threw an arm around Bruce.  “So, darling, what’s the plan now?  Can we go back to your place?”

Bruce’s heart pounded.  Why was it doing that?  “You’re going to Arkham.”

Joker laughed.  “Okay.  And then your place after?”

Bruce couldn’t help it; he laughed a little silent laugh as well.  It was funny in an unfortunate way.  He knew all too well that neither Arkham nor Blackgate would ever be able to hold the Joker, and he didn’t have the confidence to drop him off at another city’s prison or hospital.  It didn’t feel right dropping him into the laps of people that have no idea what he really is.  The Joker on the news is not the Joker on the streets.  So the Joker remains in Gotham despite how woefully inadequate their resources are.

“You’re going to Arkham,” Bruce repeated.

Joker sighed dramatically.  “Fiiiiiiine.  Where’s the car?”

It was a bit of a walk.  Interestingly, Joker asked him to put him in cuffs so that they wouldn’t look suspicious walking together.  And of course he slipped in a remark about how they should have used the cuffs earlier.  It almost made him laugh, but he caught it.  He didn’t want Joker thinking he was amused by him.  Because he wasn’t.  Not very.  A little.

Shit.

Considering his passenger, the drive was relatively quiet.  Joker would speak up whenever something jogged his mind - by what, Bruce didn’t know - but there were comfortable stretches of silence in between.  At one point he started mumbling under his breath about something that sounded familiar to the ingredients of his happy gas.  Great.  He was coming up with another variant.  Bruce would have to make _another_ antidote, after more people died from it

Bruce didn’t speed down the Arkham private roads as he normally did.  He kept at a smooth coast.  Joker’s expression was falling.  He tried to pretend his wasn’t, too.  He knew Joker didn’t like it here.  He knew it wasn’t doing anything.  As a member of the board, Bruce Wayne was trying to bring reform and sweep all of the sideways and easily-bought doctors out of there.  But their roots ran too deep, and with Jeremiah Arkham at the head, himself a sideways man, there seemed little hope for reform in the Joker’s lifetime.  Sometimes, it saddened him to think of all the normal symptomatically violent patients that needed serious treatment and were given…. well, were given Arkham. 

Bruce parked the car in front of intake.  He remained still.  He felt Joker staring at him, studying his face.  He made his decision.

“You’re going to stay in Arkham, for one week,” Bruce said, “and if, after that, you still find a way out, then…” he took a breath.  Commit.  “… _then,_ my place.”

He turned to look at Joker, whose expression was hard to read.  He imagined Joker was turning the words over in his head, tearing them apart, looking for the lie or the trick.  Something unfamiliar settled on his face for a moment.  Something like… Peace.  Before the persona returned, and a cheshire grin spread across his lips.  He fell into a fit of laughter.  Bruce tried not to take it personally; Joker laughed as a response to everything.  

“Oh, Bats,” Joker sighed contentedly.  He’d heard a lot of that tonight.  “Batsy baby, that’s rich.  I don’t know if I can wait that long, though.  A week’s an awful long time by our standards, now.  I might need something to keep me sated until then.”  He waggled his eyebrows.   

Bruce exited the car and walked around to Joker’s side to pull him out.  He gripped Joker’s shoulder to keep him from running, but it felt like an act.  He knew Joker wasn’t going anywhere; he had an incentive to stay put now.  And Joker wasn’t resisting at all.  He didn’t need to use such force, but he feared relaxing might tip off someone to their activities.  So he went through the motions.  When the doors opened for them, he shoved Joker inside almost hard enough to send him toppling to the ground, then turned around and left.

The drive home felt strange.  Something happened back there on the boat, he was sure of it.  That last kiss, something was there.  Something he wasn’t seeing yet.  Or maybe something he didn’t _want_ to see.  He didn’t allow himself to think more about it until he got home.  Distracted driving in a vehicle stronger than a tank wasn’t a good idea.  

Showered and dressed, he crawled under the covers and allowed himself to be consumed by anxiety.  There was a lot of kissing this time.  Joker always gave him a few, but again, they were never face to face.  This time _Bruce_ started the kiss.  He used it to arouse, like he did with models and starlets, but this was Joker.  He used it because he knew Joker would like it.  And he hadn’t stopped there.  He kissed Joker’s entire body.  Because it was beautiful.  Joker wanted to kiss him in the middle of their coupling so they did.  And then after, Joker looked up at him with such a soft fondness that had no place on the face of an apathetic murderer.  The resulting kiss was so pure, Bruce’s heart lurched at the memory.  He never wanted that kiss to end.  He could still feel the ghost of it on his lips.  The texture of Joker’s lips, the taste of lipstick, almost completely smudged off, the taste and sensation of his tongue, of every sensory input being Joker, Joker, Joker.  _Fuck,_ he wanted it all back.  

He should have given Joker something to sate him, because now, he needed it too.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it. I'm awful at writing smut so I'd appreciate any feedback on how I did because I am neither gay nor a man so I have no idea if I did this right.


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